#love her but shes so often drawn like this

[caracalla-dondus]

Suspicious Minds

Pairing: Emperor Geta/wife!reader

Summary: A senator informs Geta about the rumors surrounding his wife

Author's Note: This fic consists of pieces I took out from a much longer fic I had written. After reading what I originally wrote I didn't really vibe with the whole thing and so I took out parts I liked best to create this fic. Idk if it's better or worse because things feel a bit rushed in this fic now and not as cohesive as before but it's good enough I think ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I was partly inspired by Fire & Blood where it says that some in court found Queen Rhaenys Targaryen suspicious because she spent time with bards and singers and they were sure she must be having an affair on Aegon I. Also the title is from the Elvis song of the same name because it popped into my head while writing this because it's similar to the plot lol.

~~~

The late afternoon sun streamed through the marble arches of the palace, casting shadows across the floor of the Emperor’s private chamber. Emperor Geta paced restlessly, his jaw clenched tight, his fingers twitching. The rumors had come to him this morning, carried by a senator whose words had been carefully chosen, yet laced with venom.

“She is often seen in the company of poets and bards, my Emperor. Some say perhaps too often.”

The words echoed in Geta’s mind as he strode to the balcony. Below him, others strolled about, oblivious to the storm brewing in his heart. He had always known that his wife had a fondness for the arts. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her. The way her eyes lit up when she heard the verses of a poem she thought was interesting, the soft smile that graced her lips during the final notes of a ballad. She was a woman of intelligence and charm. Perfect qualities to be his empress.

But now those very same qualities and interests had become the source of his unrest.

~

Geta finds his wife out in the garden. “I had hoped to speak with you my wife,” he said, his tone polite but firm. 

“What troubles you, my love?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she stepped closer to him.

Geta studied her, his gaze lingering on her face, searching for some sign of guilt. But she looked as she always did, serene, composed, and beautiful. “There are whispers in the court,” he began slowly, “that your affection for music and poetry has extended beyond mere appreciation.”

His wife’s eyes widened, and then she laughed softly, a sound like the chiming of bells. “Surely you don’t believe such nonsense.”

“I don’t want to,” Geta admitted, his voice low. “But the court is not kind to a woman who spends her days surrounded by other men, no matter how innocent her intentions.”

Her smile faded, and she placed a hand on his arm. “Geta, these men are poets, musicians and artists. They speak to me about the soul, not the flesh. My heart belongs to you, and only you.”

He wanted to believe her. He needed to believe her. But the thought of her laughter, her attention, her admiration being bestowed on another man gnawed at him. “Then why do others speak of you so?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly. “Why do they say you adore Bacchus so much that you have embraced his indulgences?”

His wife stiffened, her hand falling away. “Do you question my virtue?” she asked, insulted that her husband would believe such nonsense about her.

“I question the company you keep!” he snapped, the words sharper than he intended.

She took a step back, her expression conveying her hurt and frustration. “You have always known who I am Geta. I am not a woman content to sit idly in the palace, just simply gossiping my day away. I find joy in the divine chaos of creation. If that makes me suspicious in the eyes of our court then so be it. But I will not apologize for things I did not do.”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with emotion. Geta clenched his fists, his anger warring with his love for her. Finally he spoke, his voice softer. “I do not wish to stifle you. But I cannot bear the thought of others questioning your loyalty or your love for me.”

His wife stepped closer, her gaze steady. “Then let me reassure you, my emperor. I am as sure of my love for you as I am about Sol bringing us the sun each morning. But if you doubt me, then tell me what must I do to prove myself?”

He sighed, reaching out to cup her face in his hands. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Let the poets and bards sing their songs without you for once. Let Bacchus have his revelry elsewhere.”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “If it will ease your mind, my dear husband then I will stay.”

Geta pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the whispers that sought to undermine them. But even as he held her, a shadow of doubt lingered, refusing to be banished entirely.

~

The grand halls of the palace echoed with the click of her delicate sandals against the marble floor. The weight of her husband’s arm on her shoulder was both reassuring and suffocating. For the past three days, Geta had not let her out of his sight. Where she went, he followed. Where he could not follow, he sent his guards to watch her every step. It was unlike him, and though his paranoia was silent, she could feel it in the way his fingers tightened around her arm, in the watchful, almost desperate glint in his eyes.

She had tried to comfort him, tried to reassure him of her loyalty, but it seemed no words could pierce through the suspicion that had taken hold of him.

During a feast, Geta watched his wife like a hawk as she entertained a visiting nobleman whose son had written a collection of poems. His wife listened to the man intently, her soft smile never wavering as the man recited a verse.

But Geta saw something else. He saw how the man’s eyes lingered on her, how her laughter seemed to light up the room. His fingers dug into the armrests of his chair, his jaw tightening. Was it admiration? Was it mere courtesy? Or was there something more? The thoughts churned in his mind like a storm, dark and unrelenting.

When the man left, Geta wasted no time. He rose abruptly, crossing the room to where his wife stood.

“You enjoyed his company,” he said, his voice low but laced with accusation.

His wife blinked, startled by his tone. “He was reciting his son’s poetry, my dear husband. That’s all it was.”

“You smiled at him,” Geta pressed, his eyes narrowing. “You laughed.”

“Am I not allowed to smile and laugh?” she asked softly, though there was a tinge of frustration in her voice. “Must I always wear a sour expression to please you?”

His hand shot out, gripping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “You are mine,” he said, his voice trembling - not with anger, but with something deeper, something more fragile. “Your smiles, your laughter, they belong to me and no one else.”

Her eyes softened as she saw the flicker of insecurity behind his harsh words. She reached up, covering his hand with her own. “And they are yours, Geta,” she murmured. “Only yours.”

His grip loosened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might vanish. “I will not lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I cannot.”

~

For the next several days, Geta’s wife’s world shrank. Where she once wandered the gardens freely, now her husband walked beside her, his hand resting possessively on her waist. When she visited the library, he went with her. Her gatherings with poets and musicians were no more, replaced by dinners where Geta sat her beside him, his eyes never leaving her.

She tried to be understanding, but his constant scrutiny weighed heavily on her. One evening, as they sat together in their chambers, she finally spoke.

“Geta,” she began, her voice tentative. “Do you not trust me?”

He looked up from the goblet of wine in his hand, his expression guarded. “Of course I trust you, you are my wife,” he said after a long pause. “It is everyone else I do not trust.”

“You cannot keep watch over me forever,” she said.

His jaw tightened. “You are my wife,” he said firmly. “My empress. And I will not risk anyone else taking you from me.”

“Even if it means suffocating me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Geta flinched, as if her words had struck him. He set the goblet down and rose to his feet, pacing the room. “You do not understand,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I have enemies everywhere. We have enemies everywhere. They would use you against me. They would take you from me. Take your love away from me”

“Who could take me when I am yours in both heart and soul?” she asked, rising to stand before him.

He stopped, his gaze meeting hers. For a moment, he looked like a man on the edge of breaking, his carefully constructed armor of intimidation cracking to reveal the fear beneath. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But the thought of losing you terrifies me.”

She reached out, cupping his face in her hands. “Geta,” she said softly, “you will not lose me. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me you will never leave me.”

“I promise,” she said, though her heart ached at the desperation in his voice.

He pulled her into his arms again, holding her as if his life depended on it. She sighed softly, resting her head against his chest. She understood that his possessiveness was not born of cruelty, nor out of a need to stifle her but it was of a fear he could not truly voice, a fear he could not truly reconcile with, and it had consumed him.

And so she stayed, tethered to him by her love for him, hoping that soon his insecurities would ease and he would see that she was his, not because he demanded it, but because she chose it. But she was not sure how much she could take of this suffocating behavior. Of every move of hers and every interaction being heavily watched.

~

She rarely let her frustrations boil to the surface, but this time was different. As she sat across from her husband in their private chambers, the weight of the senator’s venomous words and their impact on her marriage gnawed at her patience. For days and days now, Geta’s suffocating possessiveness had taken over every aspect of her life, and she could no longer bear the thought that this rift between them had been instigated by a man seeking to undermine her, a man seeking to replace her.

She set down her goblet with a sharp clink, her hands trembling, not with fear, but with barely restrained annoyance and anger. “I’ve been thinking, my dear husband,” she began, her voice calm but carrying an obvious edge to it.

Geta glanced up from his seat, his brow furrowing slightly at her tone. “What is it?”

She met his gaze, her eyes blazing with uncharacteristic determination. “The senator who came to you with these baseless rumors. I believe he must be punished.”

Geta blinked, clearly surprised. “Punished? For what?”

“For daring to speak against me,” she replied, her voice firm, slightly exasperated that he did not already know what she spoke of. “For poisoning your mind with lies and causing this… this chaos between us. He sought to undermine your confidence in me, to cast doubt on my loyalty, to possibly destroy my reputation. That is not something we should let go unanswered.”

Geta leaned back in his chair, studying her intently. “You surprise me, wife. I thought you were above petty revenge. You have always counseled me against such rash decisions before”

“This is not petty, nor is it rash!” she shot back, her tone sharpening. “He sought to disgrace me, your wife, your empress. By doing so, he has disgraced you as well. How can you tolerate such audacity?”

Her words struck a nerve. Geta’s insecurities flared, his mind racing as he considered her argument. She was right. The senator’s insinuations had not only called his wife’s loyalty into question but had also implied that Geta was a weak ruler, unable to control his own household. The thought made his blood boil.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, his voice low.

“Demote him. Remove him from his position. Let it be known that you will not tolerate slander against your Empress.”

Geta narrowed his eyes. “And if others see this as an act of weakness? A sign that I am blinded by my love for you?”

“Let them see it as a warning,” she countered. “Let them know that your loyalty to your wife is unwavering and that you will not allow anyone to sow baseless discord in your court.”

Her words appealed to Geta’s pride, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. After a long silence, he nodded slowly. “Very well. The senator will be dealt with. I’ll ensure his removal will be public and soon.”

Relief washed over her, though a part of her felt dissatisfied about simply just having the senator removed from his position. The senator had meddled in her marriage, made her husband watch every move she made for days now, and he deserved to face more severe consequences for it. The senator has a daughter around her age, she felt certain the senator was likely hoping to get her pushed aside to potentially make way for his daughter to get close to Geta, for her to be the next Empress of Rome. Geta’s wife seethed silently at the thought of someone replacing her, of someone attempting to steal her position. She thought about paying Caracalla a visit and informing him of the treacherous senator in their midst. He would certainly give her the dramatic reaction she wants.

Geta rose from his seat, crossing the room to stand before her. He cupped her face in his hands, his gaze softening. “You are right. I should never have allowed his words to poison my mind. You are my empress, my wife. No one will come between us again”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch and calming for a moment. “And I will always stand by your side Geta. But we must stand together, against anyone who seeks to divide us.”

Geta kissed her then, fierce and possessive, as if to reaffirm their bond. She let herself melt into the embrace, even as a small voice in the back of her mind wondered if she should push for more to be done about the senator. 

~~~~

reader can't take out her frustrations on Geta so she will take it out on the senator who started all of this instead lol

[come-as-you-are-111]

do a minsu x reader where minsu cry’s over smth and reader hugs and comforts him because he isn’t afraid to cry and he falls in love with her cause she i kind and sweet and she’s had a crush on him

Falling For You

Warnings: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!

The dorm is quieter than usual. It’s one of those rare moments between games where no one is talking, no one is fighting—just the sound of slow breathing, the occasional rustle of blankets, and the quiet weight of survival sinking in.

And then, you see him.

Min-Su sits on the edge of his bunk, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hands are clasped together, fingers anxiously twisting the fabric of his jumpsuit. His head is bowed low, his shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breaths.

You hesitate.

It’s not often you see someone openly upset here. People usually swallow their emotions, bury them deep down, because in the Squid Game, weakness is dangerous. It’s a place that forces you to be numb, to pretend you don’t feel a damn thing.

But Min-Su isn’t like the others.

He always felt things deeply, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. And that’s exactly why you’re drawn to him.

Taking a quiet step closer, you lower your voice. “Min-Su?”

His head lifts slightly, and even in the dim light, you catch the faint shine of tears before he quickly wipes them away with the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rough, unsteady. “I know it’s stupid to get emotional here.”

Your heart clenches. “It’s not stupid.”

You sit beside him, close enough that your knee brushes his, but you don’t press him to talk. You just wait, letting him decide if he wants to let you in.

For a moment, all he does is exhale slowly, rubbing a hand down his face before finally whispering, “It’s just… everything. The games. The people we’ve lost. And I keep wondering if I’ll make it out—if any of us will.”

He shakes his head, staring down at his hands. “I don’t want to be another nameless body on the floor.”

There’s something so heartbreakingly human in the way he says it, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out—your fingers gently curling around his hand.

His breath hitches at the contact, his gaze flickering to yours, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it, like he needs it.

And then you move without thinking, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a firm, warm embrace.

At first, he freezes, like he’s not used to this kind of comfort. But then, ever so slowly, he lets go—his hands gripping the back of your jumpsuit as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

His breath is warm against your shoulder, uneven, but he doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t try to mask the way his body trembles slightly against yours.

“I hate that we’re stuck in this place,” you murmur against his shoulder. “But I’m glad I met you.”

His arms tighten around you, as if those words alone are enough to steady him. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours—soft, vulnerable, something unspoken lingering between you.

“You mean that?”

You nod, your heart hammering.

You’d had a crush on Min-Su since the moment you first spoke to him—since you realized he wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t ruthless. He wasn’t selfish. He cared.

And right now, looking at you like this, something in his gaze shifts—like he’s seeing you in a way he never has before.

“You’re too kind for this place,” he whispers, his fingers still gently holding onto your sleeve. “That’s why I—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your stomach flips, warmth spreading through your chest, but it’s more than just a crush now. It’s something real, something that exists despite the chaos around you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you squeeze his hand. “Then at least we’re in this together.”

And for the first time in days, he smiles.

A/n: hi my lil monsters! How we likey? First min-su fic and this request is honestly so cute and I just knew I had to do it! If you have any request send em in!

Love ya, Twilight

squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

i made a tma playlist! it’s one song per fear entity, each corresponding to an avatar or victim (see below the cut for song breakdowns and more yapping)

cover art i downloaded from pinterest - it doesn’t say the artist but if u know who it is lmk !

the buried: like real people do - hozier

pov: alice “daisy” tonner

why were you digging / what did you bury / before those hands pulled me / from the earth

what did jon bury? what was he hiding as she suffocated? what was daisy hiding from before he came and pulled her out of there? did she ever feel like a real person?

the corruption: my strange addiction - billie eilish

pov: jane prentiss

hurts but i know how to hide it, kinda like it / … / my doctors can’t explain / my symptoms or my pain / but you are my strange addiction

and she did kinda like it, she was drawn to it, addicted to it, even with the pain and the detriment to her entire life. the corruption is toxic relationship core and she made a perfect avatar.

the dark: i will follow you into the dark - death cab for cutie

pov: manuela dominguez

if there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks / then i’ll follow you into the dark

i mean, she literally followed maxwell rayner into the dark. for all the good and the bad, she would have followed him even if no one else did. yknow, for cult reasons. but still.

the desolation: agnes - glass animals

pov: jude perry

agnes, just stop and think a minute / why don't you light that cigarette and / calm down now stop and breathe a second / … / a choking rose back / to be reborn / i want to hold you like you're mine / you're gone but you're on my mind

thinking about agnes montague for this song… jude really loved her. and it wasn’t pretty, she wanted control and loved her partly for how she was connected to their god, but the love was there. and i think she always missed agnes.

the end: if we were vampires - noah kahan, wesley schultz

pov: georgie barker

If wе were vampires, and death was a joke / we'd go out on the sidewalk and smoke / and laugh at all the lovers and their plans / i wouldn't feel the need to hold your hand

i considered this for trevor/the hunt bc of literal vampires but like the narrator is a realist in this song which is very much who georgie is. death is inevitable. danger is inevitable. and just because she couldn’t feel fear didn’t mean georgie wasn’t aware of what she had and that she needed to protect it and herself. she wasn’t reckless with her life which is what this song means to me.

the eye: every breath you take - the police

pov: elias bouchard/jonah magnus

every breath you take / and every move you make / every bond you break / every step you take / i'll be watching you

self explanatory. to me. still giggling about it actually.

the flesh: under your skin - jukebox the ghost

pov: jared hopworth

how much can you fit under your skin? / … / i can fit two people under my skin / … / and i can feel you laughing, under my skin / and the happy palpitations are making me… grin

also self explanatory. just shoving bones in there as often as possible. thanks a lot, jurgen leitner.

the hunt: run boy run - woodkid

pov: trevor herbert

run boy run, this world is not made for you / … / run boy run, break out from society / … / tomorrow is another day / and you won't have to hide away / you'll be a man, boy / but for now it's time to run, it's time to run

this song is so young trevor trying to find his place in the world after violently losing his brother to a supernatural being he didn’t know existed and feeling the responsibility of that while also being ousted from society. he never did stop running huh.

the lonely: agoraphobia - autoheart

pov: martin blackwood

tried on 13 pairs of / shoes and not one made me want to / leave this blessed house of mine / that’s just fine / i really don’t want to go anywhere / i don’t really want to go anywhere

i see why this is on so many lonely playlists and it really is martin in mag 170, trapped in that house by his own mind but also by what the house is doing to him. it’s a comfort, but not a good one, very much those feelings of self isolation.

the slaughter: in our bedroom after the war - stars

pov: melanie king

it's us, yes, we're back again / here to see you through, 'til the days end / and if the night comes, and the night will come / well, at least the war is over

i like this song for melanie and the slaughter bc it’s kind of an antithesis to who she is. as long as she has a war to fight, she’s comfortable. she won’t lose everything she’s fighting for. the war may be raging but by god she won’t be the one who loses.

the spiral: strawberry fields forever - the beatles

pov: michael shelley/the distortion

let me take you down / cause I'm going to strawberry fields / nothing is real / … / living is easy with eyes closed / misunderstanding all you see / it's getting hard to be someone, but it all works out

there’s the obvious “misunderstanding all you see” spiral and distortion connotations but for michael, it also was hard to be someone. nothing was real to him either, really.

the stranger: you’re somebody else - flora cash

pov: tim stoker

well, you look like yourself / but you're somebody else / only it ain't on the surface / well, you talk like yourself / no, I hear someone else though / now you're making me nervous

the irony of this song is that. she didn't look like herself. or talk like herself. but to tim, it was sasha, and she didn't make him nervous until the end when he became nervous about everything because of what happened to her. and he became somebody else, too.

the vast: space oddity - david bowie

pov: simon fairchild

i'm stepping through the door / and I'm floating in a most peculiar way / and the stars look very different today / for here / am I sitting in a tin can / far above the world

this song has very clear vast connotations but i also like the imagery of simon sitting far above everyone else. in a literal way but also he thinks he's above most people because of his abilities, so he uses them to cause problems on purpose which is ultimately his downfall. what an interesting, weird old man.

the web: control - halsey

pov: annabelle cane

my mind's like a deadly disease / i'm bigger than my body / ... / goddamn right, you should be scared of me / who is in control?

the thing about annabelle is that all those things are true but. at the point where we get to know her, she's part of something bigger than herself, it genuinely doesn't matter to her whether she lives or dies.

the extinction: love song (for the apocalypse) - ira wolf

pov: jonathan sims

i packed a photo of us from our very first date / you packed the water 'cause I couldn't carry the weight / and into the ashes you carved out a heart with our names / ... / we could say we told you so, but what good is that now

i like this song for jon and the extinction for many reasons but firstly i think it's funny to have jon's song be associated with the only entity that didn't actually mark him. but yeah this song is very jonmartin during the eyepocalypse. everything's a disaster, but they're together, and they endure.

[ahamasmiyodhah]

Well, I have like four OCs and Georgie is drawing them, Kagura had already drawn them but if you wanna go I will share here.

Akemi Seika: Head Lady of Seika Clan. She's around three years younger than Shikaku in canon, which makes her younger than Minato (around 2 and half years). She's Minato's best friend who takes Naruto and Sasuke in. About her, she's kind and gentle, but is also doesn't think twice before beating someone up. She has a good hold on her temper (perks of staying with Mayumi and Hidan) and she's basically the Mom.

Mayumi Uzumaki: Mayumi was daughter of a Uzushio refugee and a Konoha Kunoichi. She's skilled in Fuuinjutsu and Uzumaki abilities, along with Weapon mastery. Mayumi is easy-going, happy-go-lucky and a funny girl, but she understands things in a minute. She used to dye her hairs in black, so it looked like she had dyed her hairs in red highlights to hide her hairs but she stops doing that when she starts staying in Konoha.

Yui Mizuhara: Yui hails from an extinct clan from Kirigakure. She doesn't know much about her parents, just that her Mom was a Siren who worked as a Oiran. Yui grew up with her maternal Grandmother, and later deserted Kiri after her Grandma died. She is playful, flirty and an ambivert, but she loves deeply (as seen with Kakashi and Sukea)

Natsuki Tachibana: Natsuki is your resident Tsundere girl who doesn't speak much, and has a very good hold over her emotions. She isn't a Fighter, but more a Medic-nin with a lot of knowledge about medicines and poisons. She gets flustered easily (which Shisui loves).

Here is the pics which Kagura had drawn for me:

Akemi, Yui and Natsuki

(Akemi wears standard Konoha jounin outfit when she's on missions often paired with her Clan symbol's Haori, otherwise she will dress in Yukata shirt and pants with haori. Yui wears a top like shown in pic paired with a skirt, and her Kimono is worn like thay held by a waist belt. Natsuki wears Yukata styled top with mesh shirt underneath, and three-fourth pants)

Mayumi

Mayumi wears a high collared crop top over a mesh undershirt paired with black shorts over fishnets. Over this she will wither wear crop jacket or a blue Haori, designed with Uzumaki symbol)

Yeah, that's all for now haha

Reblog this with a reference of your (naruto) oc and a little blurb about them and I'll draw (some of) them (in a bit, when I'm done doing something)

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

General X - Chapter 2

Also available on Ao3 including previous chapter and prequel

This insanity returns! It is a Thunderbirds Are Go/Wallace and Gromit crossover story with Thunderbirds Original Series Easter Eggs.

I posted the first bit of this Chapter as a WIP Wednesday but here is the rest of it.

This is my first multi-chapter fic ever! I hope that you enjoy it.

---------------

“I do so miss the giant vegetable competition, but I do so love the animal sanctuary. Tottington Hall just wouldn't be the same without all the animals” Lady Tottington sighed.

She poured two cups of tea, one for herself and one for her companion, Lady Penelope.

“I understand, Totty” Penelope replied. “I couldn't be without Sherbet now.”

I'd probably have drawn the line at several thousand Sherbets, Penelope thought, but then not everybody was the same. Lady Tottington loved her sanctuary for, at last estimate, seven thousand small animals who roamed freely on her land.

“They're just so much more rewarding than most people Penelope, not including yourself of course” Totty went on. “But then I hardly see you now, so many functions and … where is it you often go again?”

“Overseas on business” Penelope replied. She preferred not to explain exactly what she did with International Rescue, even to one of her oldest friends. Totty had a heart of gold but she wasn't always the sharpest tool in the box.

Sherbet ran in, barked, and began tugging at Penelope's trousers.

“Bertie! What's got into you? I must apologise Totty, he isn't usually like this.”

Parker then followed, sounding very out of breath. “Beg your pardon, milady, but I think we might have a call.”

“Excuse me Totty” Penelope said, standing up and gliding out of the room.

“Parker, what is wrong? My compact doesn't have a call.”

“No milady, but FAB1 has multiple red lights on and the dog is insisting we respond.”

Penelope went back inside and made her apologies to Lady Tottington, and FAB1, with Parker and Sherbet already inside, picked her up at the front door. FAB1 was indeed showing multiple red lights on the dashboard that she didn’t remember existing before.

Penelope contacted John, to find a rescue call was already in place with holograms of Kayo in Shadow, John in Five and Virgil and Gordon in Two appearing.

Gordon hurriedly took his feet off Two’s control panel. Virgil looked relieved.

“John, what’s happening? Did you call?”

“No Penelope, but you could be useful. We’re responding to a possible kidnap of a citizen in the Wigan area by the Hood. We believe …”

“Wallace, Penelope. It's Wallace, the inventor we met at your roadshow a few weeks ago” Virgil interrupted. “We’re following Kayo in case we need equipment.”

“Well this is all rather distressing. What about Gromit?”

“He'd gone out before the Hood arrived” Gordon replied. “Not sure if the Hood got Gromit after Wallace.”

“No, tracking data says only one stop over West Wallaby Street” said John confidently. “It looks like he's returned to the quarry.”

“Well John, I'm in the area, how can I assist?” Penelope asked.

“Closing in now” Kayo announced, her hologram visibly turning Shadow.

“Kayo, are you sure you should be doing this by yourself? I'm in the area, Two isn't far behind, should we not have a coordinated approach?” Penelope sounded concerned.

“No! The Hood will let me go, he doesn't do the same for any of you. Two is standing by in case we need equipment, and John is tracking. The bad guys are my thing, and none more so that my ever delightful uncle” Kayo replied defiantly. “I’ve made visual contact with what I think is his ship. I'm heading in now.”

Penelope wanted to express her concern further, but she was distracted by the new lights in her car coming on again, yet this time they were blue. Sherbet was barking.

Parker slowed down at the sight of two dogs standing by the side of the road in what looked like bulky protective wear. As the car drew closer it became clear one of the dogs was Gromit. The other dog was smaller and white.

FAB1 stopped and both dogs got in. FAB1 was a large car, however Penelope still felt more squashed than usual sharing the back seat with three dogs.

“Lady Penelope, Parker and Sherbet, meet Fluffles” John announced. “I thought some introductions might be helpful.”

Nobody questioned how John had known who FAB1 was collecting. It was just accepted, even by the newcomers, that the blue floating hologram knew everything.

“Are these new lights yours, Bertie?” Penelope asked Sherbet. Far from having received a call herself, she realised the lights meant Bertie was receiving a call or assistance from Gromit.

She had to admire the ingenuity.

Bertie barked, nodding and Gromit gave a sheepish look, but one that acknowledged that Penelope was right.

Gromit had clearly noticed Virgil and Gordon, who he'd been speaking to not so long ago, although both were now in full International Rescue uniform.

The holographic Kayo had left Shadow and was walking into the Hood's ship. Why is this so easy? Penelope wondered. Was he just going to let Kayo walk in and rescue Wallace?

“Ah! Hello, Tanusha” a nasal drawl came from Kayo’s holographic projection, indicating she’d found her target. “Would you like to sit down with your uncle to share some food? I was just having some cheese and crackers!”

Penelope heard Gromit snarl beside her as Kayo’s holographic projection enlarged to reveal herself but also the Hood, sitting at an obscenely oversized table with the cheese and crackers he’d taken from Wallace and Gromit’s house.

“I don’t have any desire to eat any meal with you. Where is Wallace?” Kayo demanded.

The Hood pulled a face of mock sadness. “No time for family, Kayo. Oh dear.” He stuffed another piece of cheese into his mouth. “Oh well. I’ll survive. He’s not here.”

“Of course he’s here. You’ve just kidnapped him. I’ve just flown half way round the world because for some reason you want to kidnap a man who was living quietly with his dog. I don’t know what you’re up to, but you give him back and go back into your hiding hole!”

The Hood shrugged. “Or else? You’ll unleash the GDF? How many times has that been ineffective? They’re not even here.”

Penelope had to conceded that the Hood was no idiot. Yes, they’d beaten him before, but he usually had the right measure of people. She was quite concerned that Wallace could suffer the same fate as the Mechanic. Wallace had made some fantastic inventions, but she didn’t think he had any skills to defend against the Hood.

Kayo sighed. “I’ll ask you once more, where is he?”

“And I’ll tell you once more, he’s not here. I don’t know where he is. I just delivered him.”

Kayo paused. “Delivered him? You’re a hired villain now?”

The Hood did a sigh of his own. “It’s always been about money for me, Tanusha. If somebody wants to hire me I’m available. For the right price, of course.” That smug grin was flashed at Kayo and Penelope could feel the hatred of this man rising up inside her. Based on the faces of her companions and the boys’ holograms, everybody else was feeling the same.

“Who hired you?”

“Well that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

“You’ve told me everything so far and you didn’t have to. You let me in. You obviously have an agenda. So I’ll ask you again, who hired you to kidnap Wallace?”

The Hood took another mouthful of cheese and crackers, smirked, and replied “General X”.

[mitsouya]

[biotic-raptorian-angel]

Paint- Moicy

Moira had spent more time in Angela’s backyard than she ever cared to admit. It started on a bright spring morning, during one of their rare days off. Angela had invited her over for tea—an unspoken attempt at getting Moira to leave the lab and experience a slice of normal life. Moira was certain she wouldn’t enjoy it, but the instant she stepped into Angela’s garden, she’d felt an unexpected calm wash over her.

The garden was a wild symphony of color and shape. Blossoms in shades of crimson, gold, and lilac danced in the gentle breeze. Delicate vines climbed a trellis in the corner, and neat rows of herbs lined the outer edges of the bed. Bees buzzed among the petals, collecting pollen, and the soft hum was more soothing than Moira ever would have predicted. Her critical mind, used to scanning data charts or adjusting gene splicers, was momentarily stilled by living beauty.

Angela’s eyes glimmered with pride as she showed Moira around that first day. She spoke of each plant like a dear friend—how she had nursed the hydrangeas back from a harsh winter, or how the rose bushes had thrived thanks to a new organic fertilizer. The sincerity in Angela’s voice was as captivating to Moira as the blossoms themselves.

“It’s all a bit messy,” Angela had mused aloud, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, “but I like to let nature take its course.”

“It’s… lovely,” Moira had murmured, the word slipping out before she could measure it.

From that moment on, a quiet fascination took root in Moira’s heart. She found herself returning to Angela’s place whenever she could, camera in hand—an old but reliable piece of technology that she’d long since shelved. Angela didn’t mind. She was simply pleased that Moira seemed curious about something beyond her usual realm of biotic research.

At first, the photographs Moira captured were purely reference material. She wanted to study the way light fell through leaves, the subtle differences in petal shape. But each time she clicked the shutter, a calm focus settled over her—a gentle hush that reminded her there was more to life than scientific breakthroughs. She began to appreciate the ephemeral: how a bud opened in the morning sunlight, or how the late afternoon rays made the garden glow, painting the petals with gold.

Over time, Moira’s casual note-taking turned into a deeper pursuit. She visited an art supply store one late afternoon, slipping inside with the hood of her jacket drawn up, feeling out of place among paint tubes and canvas boards. Carefully, she selected what she needed: brushes, oil paints in hues that reminded her of Angela’s flowers, and a stack of small canvases. She didn’t tell Angela about it, uncertain whether this new endeavor would yield results worth sharing.

For months, Moira practiced in solitude. Her lab became more than a place for scientific testing; half of the sprawling tables were soon overtaken by canvases in various stages of completion. The sterile scent of antiseptics mingled with the tang of paint thinner. It was an odd fusion of worlds, one that felt surprisingly right in its own messy way.

She struggled at first. Her logical mind wanted every line and curve to be exact. But painting, she learned, was as much about feeling as technique. She discovered how a single brushstroke could convey warmth, or how a careful blend of colors could recreate the velvet softness of a rose’s petals. Little by little, her paintings began to capture the very essence that drew her to Angela’s garden in the first place: life.

Late evenings often found her hunched over a canvas, losing track of time as she layered shades of lavender and periwinkle to mimic delicate blossoms. Sometimes, she became so absorbed that she forgot to eat—only to have Angela poke her with messages to remind her that mealtime had passed hours ago.

“Just a minute more,” Moira would mumble, eyes fixed on her painting. Each time Moira whisked herself away to solitude, Angela offered a curious smile, but never pried, respecting Moira’s secret project.

Finally, a warm breeze blew in from the west one evening, signaling the approach of summer. Moira decided she was ready. The paintings—five in total—were complete. Each one captured a corner of Angela’s garden: the rose trellis at sunrise, the bed of hydrangeas in cool morning shade, the bright swirl of zinnias at midday, the herb rows catching twilight’s last rays, and a silhouette of Angela herself, kneeling among the blossoms, lit by the golden glow of dusk.

With meticulous care, Moira arranged them in a simple wooden box, adding a short note on top. The next morning, she arrived at Angela’s doorstep right after dawn, the wooden box cradled in her arms.

“Moira?” Angela answered, blinking away sleep. “Is everything alright?”

Moira nodded, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She felt uncharacteristically nervous, her usual composure frayed by anticipation. “I wanted to give you something,” she murmured. “For all those afternoons you let me roam your garden… and for the peace it brought me.”

She handed the box to Angela, who lifted the lid, eyes widening at the sight of the carefully wrapped canvases. One by one, Angela revealed them: vibrant snapshots of her own garden—transformed through Moira’s patient brushstrokes into swirling hues and soft textures. Angela’s breath hitched when she saw the painting of her own silhouette, quietly tending the flowers.

“Moira…” she whispered, a hand over her heart. “They’re stunning.”

Moira managed a shy smile, a far cry from her usual stern expression. “I’m still learning,” she said, voice tight with vulnerability. “But I wanted to thank you. Your garden… it reminded me that there’s more beauty in the world than what we examine under microscopes.”

Angela gently set the paintings aside, then pulled Moira into a tender, grateful hug. The warmth of their closeness mirrored the glow of the summer sun just starting to rise. “They’re perfect,” she said into Moira’s shoulder. “Thank you. This… this means more to me than you could ever know.”

Moira released a slow exhale, the tension in her chest finally easing. “I’m glad,” she murmured.

They stepped into the garden together, the morning light making the real flowers shine. Angela set the paintings on a small wooden table near the patio, a protective hand still hovering over them.

As they strolled among the blooms, Angela’s hand found Moira’s, and they wandered in a companionable silence, side by side. Moira, in an unspoken promise to herself, vowed to keep painting. Perhaps her next piece would capture the way the morning dew clung to a rosebud—or how Angela’s laughter rang out in the early sun.

Whatever came next, she knew this: Angela’s garden had sparked a quiet passion in her, a reverence for creation that even her scientific mind couldn’t fully explain. It was more than an appreciation of nature; it was an unspoken reflection of how Angela had come to blossom in Moira’s life, reminding her that beauty—like a flower—could flourish, even in the most unexpected places.

A-Z Prompts

I've decided to try and keep up with daily writing by doing 1 prompt a day for each ship via the A-Z prompts I came up with below. If you like it or have suggestions for other prompts, please let me know!

Adoration

Bravery

Chivalry

Devotion

Ethereal

Friendship

Glamour

Healthy

Idol

Jukebox

Kingdom

Letter

Moss

Nude

Observation

Paint

Quiet

Rejection

Sea

Turntable

Unanimous

Vermin

Wings

Xenomorphic

Yitten

Zephyr

[dvnieldraws]

wet cat dad and his strong protector daughter [q!missa & q!tallulah]

[majouartings]

My finished piece for Dottolus' Dotnomicon: Grimoire of Wonders! I was going for kind of a folk-magicky vibe with my one, heh. The zine is available for FREE on itch.io at the above link, so definitely definitely check that out. The full list of artists and writers involved in the project can be found here; they've all done absolutely incredible work on this, and it's been super inspiring getting to see them all do their thing, so be sure to check them out too! Thank you again to @dotzines for having me, I had a really great time working on this and I'm so excited to see the end result!

[seaweedstarshine]

You know that time in the comics when the Doctor is so depressed, he shuts off the lights, turns on an interrogation spotlight, locks himself in the console room, and argues with a bunch of judgmental shadow-figures resembling his past incarnations?

And all the TARDIS' lights go out and her interior becomes a maze to keep his companions out of the console room, all from her psychic connection with the Doctor (“moodbleed”)?

And his companions are left wandering in circles for two days as the air goes “stale,” not knowing where he is but thinking the worst, while he hallucinates in a dark room?

...because I'm thinking again about the times this definitely happened when he was with the Ponds.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Walking In Two Worlds & The Everlasting Road

YA sff set in the near future where an opensource augmented reality is commonly used like social media, and there’s also a completely virtual fantasy game version

follows an Anishinaabe girl who who’s the top player in the VR game, and is constantly fighting to keep her place against the misogynist neo-nazi group in second place

as well as her real life, dealing with being a shy and self-conscious teen growing up on the Rez, and her brother having cancer

and a Uyghur boy who’s moved to her community from China after finding acceptance in an online community (even when he doesn’t agree with their more extreme views) - but when he gets to know Bugz, he has to decide who truly deserves his loyalty

great mix of sff and culture, the future while also very real community traumas of the past (and present)

[website-com]

since pepper was asking for it something that girls do that always makes me think 'cool gender' is not change their names despite it being historically masculine and re-defining the name through their identity and relationship to it.

[royalreef]

(( As a kinda silly OOC thing: I like conceiving of Miranda (and her connections through the Merkingdom) as being an anti-OP muse.

As in, I like the thought of, the more OP someone or something else is, the worse of a time they have being able to do anything to Miranda. She is, very intentionally and within the logic of her own universe, designed to be able to handle those with extreme power and authority and to be able to undermine everything they can throw at her and counteract anything that they try to do.

She's already a royal, next in line to her throne! She has to be able to fully handle other people in similar positions without risking any damage to her own, and this is something that she's dealt with her entire life. She very much knows all the risks associated as a part of her job, her title, her entire reason for being born, and she's well-trained in the formal and informal methods of striking down anyone else who might even come close to a position to her own.

Which, of course, means that muses that very much aren't OP, that are just normal people or much closer to it, are much, much more capable of threatening Miranda and the Merkingdom both as a point of intention. This is something that I very much want and very much want to encourage. Especially because the reason this is such a problem is the way that the Merkingdom and, thus, Miranda, entirely overlook and ignore such threats and treat them like non-issues. The fact that most Merkingdom royals, upon actually encountering a landfolk, have a range of responses from discomfort to dismissal to ignorance, is one that is very purposeful here. The ones that they're most likely to pay attention to are the ones in the most danger, and the ones that they aren't likely to care very much about beyond petty malice and as another means to inflate their own egos. And, as it is, the ones they're most likely to pay attention to are those that have decided to pose a risk.

And it's a thing that I've been dealing with from the beginning too. From the start of this blog I was very bothered by the idea that some OP character would decide to singlehandedly "fix" or destroy the Merkingdom from a position of equal or greater authority. Which is not to say that I didn't want it to be changed or that there weren't ways to dismantle it. But rather, I wanted it to be more organic, and I wanted to deal with the actual question of how that even happens, and I wanted to ask the question of what could measurably improve this situation and Miranda's life both.

Which meant that, yeah, the more OP a muse is the more intentionally destined for failure they are, and the closer they approach "some guy", the more they'll be able to achieve. Which is not to say it won't be difficult or hard to do, or that there's not the possibility for failure (again, even at her most basic, Miranda is a macropredator that can easily maim someone, but more typical "normal" muses are more likely to possess caution and try to read her body language before pressing her), but the fact remains, very intentionally, that they are the only ones who will be able to do it.

[radlymona]

No one will ever understand the Criston/Alicent/Rhaeynra/Daemon love square like I do

[itspileofgoodthings]

rewatching four weddings and a funeral (2019) with Nina for the first time in a while and I am forced to admit that Maya is in fact often the most unlikable of the friend group and I understand why she and Kash’s storyline isn’t people’s favorites.

[c0rpsedemon]

one thing i'm trying to keep in mind while designing the cast of the resurrectionists is that they're all constantly changing clothes + ideally there will be ppl cosplaying these characters someday and i'd much rather see morana cosplays done in old btssb pieces that technically aren't things she wears than morana cosplays in cheap mass-produced versions of her canon outfits from aliexpress so i'm trying to make them all recognizable by a defining feature or two + fashion (sub)style alone